Boulevard of Broken Dreams
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: Undertaker/Triple H. CM Punk/Daniel Bryan. It was three weeks removed from the birth of his second daughter, Madison, when the paperwork first crossed his desk for a WrestleMania match between himself and Daniel Bryan. Storyline Fanfic. Slash. Full list of warnings inside. Please Review!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fanfic, Rare Pair, etc.

**A/N:** This story is a Storyline Fanfic. In other words, it is set between Elimination Chamber and WrestleMania '14. It will be updated three times a week - Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday - unless otherwise noted. It will follow a more in-depth look at the Daniel Bryan v. Triple H & Brock Lesnar v. Undertaker storylines, in addition to CM Punk's mysterious disappearance. In addition to this, this story is to help me break my writer's block. As always, please let me know how it is!

* * *

It was three weeks removed from the birth of his second daughter, Madison, when the paperwork first crossed his desk for a WrestleMania match between himself and Daniel Bryan.

There was no doubt in his mind that it would be a fantastic match. After all, the 'Authority' had been selling Bryan as the 'Ultimate Underdog', and had been forcing him to contest several matches (sometimes all in one night) in order to 'prove' himself. If he could defeat Triple H at WrestleMania, he would cement himself in history as one of the greats. Triple H _was_ willing to give him the push... just not in a match with himself.

He'd hung-up his boots several months before when he went on leave, preferring the semi-peaceful environment of a cooperate office to the heart-pounding rigors of the ring. At the time, he couldn't afford to take any risks. He'd had a high-risk pregnancy - the doctor had confined him to bed rest on two separate occasions near the end - and now that he'd had the baby, his body was not returning as quickly as he would have liked.

Honestly, he wasn't sure if his body was ready for the taxing demands of a WrestleMania match. He'd put on thirty-five pounds (which wasn't enough, and was part of the reason his pregnancy became so physically taxing near the end) and had lost ten in three weeks. It was good, but nowhere near good enough. That kind of weight gain could lead to all sorts of complications in the ring. And then, there was the more superficial aspect...

His five-year-old daughter, Lily, sat on his knee, body curled closely around his own. She looked like a human version of a boa constrictor. Hunter laughed, ruffling her blonde curls softly. "You comfortable there, babe?"

"Mommy fluffy." _Just like a pillow_, Hunter thought agitatedly. He knew that she didn't mean it how it sounded, but still...

"I am, huh? I guess that's a good thing." His button-down dress shirt was slightly tight and he regretted trying to dress formally for work today. "I just have a little bit more work to do... then we can go home and see Daddy Mark, hmm?"

Lily shifted a little, pulling her Cabbage Patch doll closer to her. "Daddy Mark travel with us soon?"

"Yeah, he will." He tucked a blonde curl behind her ear, wondering how she always managed to figure out what was on his mind.

This match had been weighing heavily on his mind. Of course, he could always veto the match then and there. It wouldn't be authorized to run if he didn't sign off on it. But he _also_ knew that Mark would never forgive him if he did. The Streak meant the world to Mark - sometimes, Hunter questioned _just how_ important it was to him - and he would take on _any _opponent in order to defend it. To take Brock Lesnar away from him... it would almost be an _insult_.

He hesitated for only a moment longer, before pushing the stamp down heavily onto the paperwork. The red ink leaked onto the page, stamping his signature onto the contract. It was now official. "Mommy?" Lily asked softly.

"What's the matter, babe?" Hunter asked softly. He needed a distraction. _Any_ distraction would do.

"Is Mommy sick? Mommy shaking." It was soon after that, that Hunter realized he was, in fact, shaking. Taking a deep breath, he did his very best to steady himself.

"Mommy's fine, sweetie... Mommy's fine." But Hunter was far from fine. Why did he have a feeling that this WrestleMania was going to bring about the end of... well, _everything_?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fic, etc.

**OOOO**

Hunter made quick work of the remaining paperwork, and resolved to reexamine the contract for a WrestleMania match between himself and Daniel Bryan at a later date. A dull ache had started to form in his arm, around the area where it had been broken just last year by Brock Lesnar, and Hunter knew exactly why. He shuddered to think what would happen to the Dead Man's streak should he be caught in that offending Kimora Lock, or the damage that would be done to the Dead Man's psyche should Brock Lesnar find a way to beat the streak. The streak, after all, was all that he had left.

Once he had finished, he gathered up Lily and made for the door. He threw his satchel over his shoulder along the way and handed Lily her little Barbie-themed backpack, watching as she slowly and carefully slipped it over her shoulders. He didn't know why she wanted to carry an empty backpack, but the look of pleasant contentment on her tiny face made it rather easy for him to keep his silence. His stride was quick and confident, and she shuffled slowly behind him. It would seem as if he was not the only one with something on his mind. When he came upon the elevator, he pressed the 'down' button.

"You feeling alright, sweetie?" Hunter asked. He adjusted the satchel at his side, using his free hand to ruffle her locks affectionately.

"Yeah, 'm fine." But, from the way that she was digging her feet into the floor, staring _anywhere_ but at Hunter, he knew that she was not telling him the truth. "We go home, Mommy?"

Hunter offered her a sympathetic glance. He wouldn't push the matter, though. "Yeah, we're going home. It's really late and way past your bedtime, anyhow." He paused, then, "Do you want me to read you a story before you go to bed?"

Lily _never_ turned down a story, but _tonight_ seemed to be different. "No thanks."

The elevator arrived and they both entered inside, watching silently as the doors slid shut behind them. Hunter pressed the button for the 'ground floor', before taking several steps back and leaning against the wall. Lily just stood in the middle of the elevator, rocking back and forth on her heels and staring at the wooden floor. Something was very obviously wrong, but what? With a soft _ding_, the doors swished open and both filed out. Hunter offered Lily his hand, but instead of taking it, she merely grabbed onto the material of his pants. She sniffed and continued to stare at the floor as they made their way into the parking garage.

Hunter located the car and opened the door, undoing the straps of the child safety seat and placing Lily into it. As he started to buckle her in, he tried once more, "Do you want any of your dollies?" She shook her head. "Do you want me to put in a movie?"

"Go home." This was all that she said. Hunter took that to mean that she didn't want to see a movie.

Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her blue eyes slid closed, and re-opened when Hunter drew back. "Hmm… you're a little warm. Are you sure that you're okay?"

Once again, all the little girl said was, "Go home."

**OOOO**

Hunter entered the bedroom after tucking Lily into bed, a look of distinctive worry on his face. "I think that there is something wrong with Lily." He said frankly.

Mark slowly lowered the book that he was reading and offered Hunter a quizzical look, "What makes you say that? She looked fine to me."

"She was with me in my office signing paperwork." Hunter explained. "She could see how anxious I was about… one of the papers…" he forced out that last part in a breathless rush. "I think she might have been feeding off of my distress."

Unfortunately, Mark had heard what he said and just _had_ to ask, "What match could upset you that much?"

Hunter sighed. He now had _all_ of Mark's attention and any attempts at lying or diverting the question would only lead to a fight and a possible night on the couch. He sighed once more and mumbled, "Your match with Brock Lesnar."

"You approved it?" From his tone, it was clear that Mark hadn't expected to hear that.

"Yes… Yes, but… I was so upset afterword and I think that she fed off of it." Hunter said, remembering how he had shook.

Mark cocked his head to the side. "Why is it upsetting you so much?" Subconsciously, Hunter stroked a hand over the arm that he been broken last year by Brock Lesnar. Mark caught it. "That's not going to happen."

Hunter didn't mean for it to come across as hopeless and insecure-sounding as it did, but he whispered, "How can you be so sure?" Because _nobody_, not even the 'great' Paul Heyman, knew what was going through the beast's head.

Now, it was Mark's turn to sigh. It was unusual to see Hunter so visibly distressed – it was even _more_ unusual for him to show such discomfort in front of their daughter, Lily. The only other time that it had occurred had been after their WrestleMania encounter three years earlier, where Mark had to be carted off in an ambulance because he couldn't get to his feet. There had been an entire slew of fears about possible injuries, potential surgeries, and, of course, there was the risk that he'd never again be able to lace up his boots and enter the squared circle as a competitor. Hunter had suffered with the enormous weight of knowing he was the cause.

Lily had started to pick up on Hunter's discontent and had started to demand that they spend more and more time at the hospital, and if Hunter should try to refuse, she would refuse to take naps, do her work, and once, even refused to eat. Hunter had since tried incredibly hard to house his emotions inside, but this… he didn't know _how_ to feel about this. Brock Lesnar was about to walk back into their lives and turn everything upside down again, and Hunter wasn't sure that he could handle the emotional turmoil of the streak finally meeting its bitter end. He didn't know what would become of _them_ if the streak ended.

If he were to be _really_ honest with himself, then he would admit that he knew _exactly_ what this was about. He knew how much the streak meant to his husband… but he didn't know where _he_ stood in comparison to the streak. He couldn't take the match away from Mark, because he knew that Mark deserved a say in his opponent – and, really, Brock Lesnar vs. The Undertaker _was_ best for business. But if he kept the match and Mark lost… the streak meant _everything_ to Mark. And as emotionally straining as nursing him through his post-war battle wounds would be, he couldn't even begin to comprehend the potential pain of Mark leaving him.

"Hey, hey," Mark offered him a half-smirk, half-smile. "The odds are currently in my favor, considering there are currently no stipulations. If he starts going all psycho, like he has recently, he'll be disqualified."

"Yeah…" Hunter trailed off, ashamed to admit that that was not what he was most worried about.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you know that… why are you so worried about it?"

"I don't know." Hunter said, sighing exasperatedly. "I just don't know, okay?" But he _did_ know, and that was the problem. "Anyhow… do you think Lily could stay with you tomorrow? I have to film Main Event and I think it will be good for her."

Mark looked confused at the prospect of ever denying care to his daughter. "Of course she can. But she might be upset about you leaving her behind. She loves going to the arena with you."

"I'm thinking that, maybe after tonight, it would be best to leave her behind for a little while." He said.

A pause, then, "She _knows_ about Brock Lesnar, Hunter. She _knows_ what he did to you. She's just scared."

Hunter gave a frustrated grunt, "Yeah, she's scared and I have no clue how to make it better. I'm an utterly fantastic parent."

Mark rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Hunter started to strip out of his clothes, careful to avoid the still-sensitive area on his abdomen were the doctor had cut for the C-section. Quickly, he dressed in his pajamas, more than a little put-off by the slight chill in the room. Walking up to the large four-poster bed, he turned down the blankets on his side and slid underneath them. During this time, Mark had resumed his book. It seemed to be a rather interesting text, filled with the doom and gloom that was common in Gothic literature. The doom and gloom of the earlier topic seemed almost entirely forgotten.

Hunter plopped down, back away from Mark, and started to tug at the threads that made up the green satin sheets on the bed. "You meet up with Brock Lesnar for the contract signing next Monday on RAW."

Without pausing, Mark responded, "I'll be there."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fanfic, etc.

* * *

"I hate my job." Daniel Bryan hissed darkly. "I fucking _hate_ my job."

Phil slowly lowered the comic book that he was reading, raising one eyebrow at the ranting and raving form of his husband-to-be. "No, you don't. You _love_ your job. This is just your anger for Hunter talking."

"He's mocking me. He's treating me like I'm some second rate wrestler, even after I mow down everyone that he puts in my way! I've beaten his little 'face of the WWE' _how many times_? _How many_? His face was quickly reddening as he screamed.

Phil shrugged. "I haven't counted." And then, "It has happened a lot, though."

Bryan huffed, exasperatedly. Then, a little softer, "How can you just sit there so calmly?"

Another shrug, "I don't have to listen to Hunter on a daily basis anymore… well, at least not for another three and a half months." He paused, shifting carefully on the couch. "Come on over and have a seat." He patted the couch cushion beside him.

Bryan hesitated for a moment and Phil returned to reading his comic book, knowing that, sooner or later, Bryan would make his way over to him. Just as he had suspected (and after making a quick trip to the en-suite kitchen for a bottle of Merlot – after all, deep conversations were always easier to handle when he had a little bit of alcohol in his system), Bryan plopped down beside him and folded his legs beneath his body. They sat in silence for several moments. Bryan uncorked the bottle and brought it to his lips, not even bothering with a glass. Phil would call it improper… but didn't dare.

"They have had me in so many stupid little storylines. First, I was the bitch of the Wyatt family. Now, I'm engaged to Brie Bella, even when most of the WWE Universe _knows_ I'm gay. Hunter's walking all over me and he _loves_ it. I don't know what to do." He sighed.

Phil turned the page, not really focusing on the material in front of him. "Maybe you need to be more like me."

_That_ caused Bryan to raise an eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Hunter only walks all over you because you _let_ him." Finally, Phil set the comic book down. Bryan took another swig of wine. "He pushes you, only because you don't push back."

"You want me to push back. Don't you think that I've been _trying_ to do that all along?" Bryan hissed, suddenly angry with Phil.

"Not hard enough." Phil said. "Use the crowd to your advantage. Take the 'yes' movement to another level. And whatever you do," now, Phil was looking his fiancé in the eye. "Don't take no for an answer."

With that said Phil leaned forward and tossed his comic book onto the coffee table. He eased off of the couch and stretched, showing off the slight swell of his belly. Bryan had a hard time believing that he was already five-and-a-half months along. In just three-and-a-half short months, he would be a father. It seemed like such a short amount of time… and, at the same time, unbearably long. And in that time, he would be competing in various matches for the WWE and continue to be walked on. While it was nice for Bryan to be able to come back to the hotel to be with his fiancé… it wasn't the same as when he was competing.

"Hey, Phil?" Phil, who had been rounding the corner to head to bed, paused at the sound of his name.

"Yeah." He turned, bracing one hand on his hip and the other on the corner of the wall.

"You are planning on coming back to the WWE after the baby is born, right?" Now, he finally voiced his secret concern. Now, he vocalized his fear that Phil had finally gotten fed up and had walked out… this time for good.

Phil shrugged nonchalantly. Bryan realized how much he hated shrugging. "Yeah, 'course I am." And then, turning back, he started down the hall again. "Night."

* * *

When Mark and Hunter awoke to find Lily curled between them, fast asleep, neither could convincingly claim that they were surprised. As Hunter had mentioned the night before, Lily was obviously distressed by the previous night's proceedings – even if she did not necessarily understand what they were about – and she needed to be around those capable of comforting her. Hunter was the first out of bed. Grabbing a complementary hotel towel, he headed into the bathroom for his morning shower. When he returned, Mark was sitting up in bed with Lily in his lap, working a comb through her knotted blonde curls.

Neither said a word, but what was more important was what went _unsaid_. They wouldn't mention how nervous Hunter was about the impending collision between Mark and Brock, the almost superficial worry that Hunter possessed about showing his body to the world… the fact that their daughter could read all of this. Hunter couldn't understand how Mark was so nonchalant about his impending collision with the monster. While Hunter had the upmost faith in Mark and his ability to win, he was constantly forced to consider the alternative – after all, thinking the worst _was_ technically part of his job description.

Hunter slowly started to dress. It was Mark that struck up the conversation. "When do we leave for the house show?"

Hunter eyed the clock, before responding, "About two hours or so." And then, "Do you think that I've put on weight?"

Mark watched as Hunter eyed his reflection in the mirror self-consciously. He rolled his eyes and then, "No, I don't. You can't even tell that you really put on all that much weight at all." He continued. "Stop obsessing over it."

"I've just been thinking about the match that Bryan's been demanding." Because, really, to call it 'asking' would have been an incredible understatement. "Steph is saying that I need to make a decision sooner rather than later so Creative can work it in."

"Do you _want_ to fight him at WrestleMania?" Mark asked in a matter-of-fact manner.

"I _want_ to get back in shape so I don't feel like the only thing the world is staring at is my paunch." Hunter grumbled.

Mark rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a 'yes', then." Pausing, he set the comb aside and ruffled the little girl's curls softly. "You're all done, Lils. Go get dressed and wait for breakfast, hmm?" Lily ran off to do as she was told.

Hunter's eyes followed her out of the room, before he turned back to Mark. "I guess I'll be making breakfast, then?"

Mark, not bothering to meet his gaze, was rolling off of the bed and starting to undress. "I'm guessing our earlier conversation isn't over?"

"Not by a long shot."

Breakfast went by rather quickly. Lily's earlier discontent seemed to have disappeared entirely now that she sat with her entire family in a somewhat less pressure-filled environment. She even ate her entire meal, which was of great concern to both of her parents. After breakfast, Mark and Hunter bundled up both of the girls and decided to head to the airport early. Hooking up the car seats in the back of the rental car, Mark took the wheel and Hunter slid into the passenger seat. They started off; taking more of a scenic route, and the car ride was rather quiet. That was, of course, until Hunter's phone began to ring. It was Daniel Bryan.

Not even bothering to say a word in introduction, Bryan immediately started in with, _"Phil's not feeling too great and I don't want to force him to travel. I won't be able to make it to the house show tonight_."

"What the hell, Bryan? Could you have waited any longer to tell me?" Hunter was absolutely furious, and the sweet, comforting silence of the car was completely disrupted. "You're billed in the main event for tonight! Do you realize how inconvenient this is?"

Bryan didn't seem to be too impressed with Hunter's current situation, however. _"I'm not about to compromise my fiancé's health just to put a little extra money in your pocket." _Bryan was fuming, he was so mad. _"Apparently, you know what's best for business. _You_ figure it out._"

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to -," but before he could finish, Bryan had hung up. Hunter frowned, "Little bastard."

Hunter was running through countless scenarios in his head, trying to find a way to compensate for Bryan's sudden decision to drop out of the house show that night. He was acutely aware of the fact that such behavior was grounds for immediate reprimand and possible suspension – especially with the way that Bryan had talked to him at the end of the conversation – but at the same time… he was almost _impressed_ that the little bastard had finally grown a pair and stood up to him. Just so long as it didn't become a habit… he could let it slide, just this once.

"Is there a problem?" Mark asked, almost sarcastically.

"No." Hunter shook his head, taking deep breaths to try and lower his blood pressure. "No, not yet." And then, a thought occurred to him. "How do you think the crowd would like to see Randy, Batista, and Alberto del Rio vs. The Shield in the Main Event?"

Mark smirked. "I think you could've had a real career ahead of you in Creative." And both laughed about it.

* * *

It was that night, in the middle of the house show, that Steph confronted him with the idea of a match with Daniel Bryan and WrestleMania once again. His storyline wife was actually all-for the idea, despite her appearance on camera. She believed that it would be a great way to finally solidify the underdog character that they'd been building for him over the last several months. After their little phone call in the car earlier, Hunter found himself incredibly tempted to simply decline the offer – after all, what reason did he have to _want_ to push a pompous little snob who totally wrote him off like that? But, for some reason, he didn't jump at the chance.

"I can tell that he's getting frustrated, Hunter." Steph said, thumbing the paperwork that was tucked into the crook of her arm. "We can't have another incident like the one with Phil. Dad's still working on it… but his status is _still_ up in the air."

"Daniel Bryan is a solid competitor, truthfully. And it would be an honor to compete with him in a match." Hunter told her. "But it's been almost a year since I stepped into the ring… after I almost miscarried against Axel. I don't know if I'm ready."

Steph frowned. "You don't know if you're ready, or you don't want to be?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Hunter hissed, suddenly infuriated with the slim brunette.

"We always question what became of the Randy Orton of old, but I'm beginning to wonder what happened to the Triple H of old. The Triple H of old would have been in the gym twenty-four seven, trying to get his body in _perfect_ shape for an impending match."

"You try hopping into a ring seven weeks after having a four-day overdue baby, and then tell me how _easy_ it is." Hunter snapped.

Steph stepped forward, setting the paperwork down on Hunter's desk. "I need an answer by Monday."

He watched Steph leave, a grimace forming on his face. Who the hell was she to insinuate that he wasn't the same man, the same wrestler, that he had once been? His body had gone through an incredible trauma, producing two children. It wasn't like he was some sort of rubber band that could just snap back into place after it had stretched! And even a rubber band got a little bit bigger, a little less stretchy, every time it stretched, right? He stared down at the paperwork, feeling a sudden contempt for his storyline wife. And as he took pen to paper and signed his name, he tried to convince himself that he was angry at her… and not at himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fanfic, etc.

* * *

**The Next Night**

The next night, they were filming SmackDown in order for it to air the following Friday. Once again, a little while before the show, Hunter had asked Mark if he'd be willing to watch the kids for a few hours while he handled 'business'. Mark had, of course, agreed. But the Deadman had no intentions of staying at the hotel room that night. Like Hunter, Mark had also been talking with Stephanie McMahon concerning WrestleMania arrangements. He had a meeting with her tonight to finalize their arrangement.

At about seven o' clock that evening, Mark paused in front of Stephanie's office door. The magnitude of this meeting had been troubling him all week, and now that he was to come face-to-face with the inevitable… he steeled himself and knocked on the door. Within seconds, the heavy oak door swung open and an immaculately dressed Stephanie McMahon greeted him with an undeniably McMahon-esque smile. Firmly shaking his hand, she ushered him inside with a hand on his back. Lily lagged considerably behind.

"I'm very glad that you could make it tonight, Mr. Calloway. Though I must say, I would've understood if you were forced to reschedule due to familial commitments." She inclined her head toward Lily.

"Lily's grown up in the WWE. It's practically her second home. I have no problem bringing her here." Mark said curtly. There was no time for pleasantries – this was strictly a business-oriented affair.

"I see." The smile waned a little bit. "Well, then – shall we get down to business?"

Mark shifted in the chair, making himself comfortable. Leisurely, he drew one leg up over the other and, in a calm, almost neutral tone, proclaimed, "I want to be booked to lose my match with Brock Lesnar."

The smile vanished completely. "I'm not sure that I understand… You _want_ to lose?"

"Yes." Mark nodded firmly. "I want to lose."

"I don't think that you comprehend the enormity of what you're saying, Mr. Calloway. The Streak is _unprecedented_ – hell, it's the most coveted mark in sports history!" She exclaimed.

"Yes." Mark continued calmly. "And at WrestleMania XXX, it will be over."

The relief came when the words were finally proclaimed aloud, when he could finally reflect on exactly what it was that he wanted. He and Hunter had been together for quite some time, and had many memories (both good and bad) to show for it. But the most beautiful things that they had made together weren't 'things' at all. Their two daughters, two precious little girls, were Mark's crowning achievement. Not The Streak. Not the World Heavyweight Championship, or the WWE Championship, or the now unified belts.

"Three years ago at WrestleMania XXII, my daughter was forced to watch as her parents brutally battled to the end, only to have her father be carried out on a stretcher. It changed her. I can tell." Mark said.

Stephanie cocked her head to the side and steepled her fingers on the desk. "That's part of the territory, Mr. Calloway. If you have no problem bringing her here, you should expect her to see a little carnage now and then."

"My husband and my daughters are my number one priority. I won't let The Streak come between me and my family." He said firmly.

He could see the tension forming in her brow. She was nervous. He liked it. "That's not your call to make."

He thought that she might go there. "I'm fully prepared to throw the match."

"You'd ruin yourself!" She exclaimed viciously – but Mark could see the truth in her eyes. She wasn't worried about the legacy of the Deadman, she was worried about the ruin of WrestleMania XXX.

Mark smirked lightly, "Where do I sign?"

"I never said that I would go along with this!" Stephanie fumed. It looked like steam was about to blow out her ears.

"Fine." Mark rose from his seat, smoothing invisible wrinkles from his clothes. Reaching for Lily's hand, the pair started for the door. "Then I'm prepared to walk out now, and there won't _be_ a match at WrestleMania."

For several moments, the two simply stared at one another. It was clear that Stephanie didn't want to believe what she was hearing, that she wanted to think that all of this was just one nasty nightmare that just… wouldn't… end. But then, he started for the door and she knew that he was dead serious. Her dark eyes flickered down toward that little girl, with her soft, fluffy curls and pretty eyes, and knew that she had her Daddy wrapped perfectly around her tiny pinky finger. This was just wonderful.

She was trapped in a lose-lose situation. Should she let him walk out now, WrestleMania would be ruined. Without the Brock Lesnar vs. Undertaker match at the forefront of the pay-per-view, the entire show would undoubtedly be a flop. At the same time, should she agree to his terms, The Streak would come to an end and the brute, the monster, Brock Lesnar, would be heralded as both super-human and a monster. And WWE would lose one of their greatest WrestleMania money-makers… second only to Shawn Michaels.

He opened the door and Stephanie's heart practically stopped in her chest, her mind's eye vividly portraying the metaphorical dollar signs flushing down the toilet. "Wait!"

Mark turned back, one eyebrow raised. Lily clutched his hand tightly. "Yes?"

With a sign, she plopped down into her chair (vaguely allowing herself to wonder when she'd stood up in the first place). Producing a contract, she begrudgingly tossed it onto the desk. "You sign here."

* * *

"I found out the gender of the baby today." Phil said nonchalantly. He didn't look up from the comic book as Bryan slowly and methodically packed their things.

"Oh?" Bryan paused, momentarily meeting his husband-to-be's eyes. "I thought that we wanted to be surprised. Did you change your mind?" He cocked his head to the side, trying to read Phil's expression.

"It's funny. I _thought_ that I wanted to be surprised. But then, the tech was saying that the baby was in there all spread-eagle, and it made me laugh. It just seemed like something our son would do." He said.

Bryan felt his heart clench and his eyes slowly widen. "Son?"

"Yeah." Phil finally set the comic book aside. "It's a little boy."

Bryan felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and, as his vision blurred, he scooped up the former WWE Champion into his arms and squeezed him with all of the care and love that he could muster. Phil, who was understandingly momentarily caught off guard, had to hide a small smile as he was showered with affection by his love. The road for the two of them had been a difficult one over the past several months, and there was no conceivable reprieve in the near future. But at least, right then, they had peace.

Bryan carefully lowered Phil back down to the bed and Phil let out a soft chuckle, smoothing a hand over his growing belly. He didn't think that it was possible to be this happy, this content. His fiancé seemed to have an extra 'bounce' in his step as he folded the rest of their clothes and packed the rest of their accoutrements into their respective suitcases. Phil was feeling a little better now, and his spirits were higher now that he knew about the baby. They'd travel with WWE that week and Bryan would be on Monday Night RAW.

"Hunter must've wanted your head on a silver platter for skipping out on Main Event." Phil said, a tad viciously. He didn't feel for Hunter in the slightest.

"We had a little chat when I got there to film SmackDown. He put me on probation – I had to do the dark match and on Monday I have to do triple duty, run the gauntlet against the Shield."

Phil looked considerably apologetic. "You know that you didn't have to stay home with me." It was as close to 'I'm sorry' as Phil would ever come.

Bryan wasn't fazed. "I love you, Philly. You didn't feel right, and you're almost six months pregnant. What kind of fiancé would I be to just let you suffer alone?" He asked.

"I'm a perfect ass when I don't feel well. I'm sure you would've much rather been at work." Phil said.

"Trust me," Bryan leveled him with a hard stare, "I much prefer your company to those ass-kissers at work."

The raven-haired man smirked. "If I didn't know better, I would think that I'm rubbing off on you."

Bryan smirked in return. "Oh, honey, you haven't rubbed off on me in a _long_ time…"

"Mr. Danielson," Phil looked positively scandalized, "I do believe that you are trying to get into my pants." Nonetheless, he leaned back and spread his legs a little. "And I _might_ just let you."

"Might?" Bryan raised an eyebrow. "I think I like those odds."

Suddenly, the idea of packing to make the plane that would carry them to their destination for Monday Night RAW was the _last_ thing on Daniel Bryan's mind. Phil hadn't been in a mood like this in _ages_, and his pregnancy had been particularly hard on his body. The fact that he was already out of his shirt and hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers could only mean one thing. His Philly wanted him, and after three months of forced-celibacy… well, who was he to turn down such a pretty offer?


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fanfic, etc.

* * *

Lily had been off for the rest of that night, and so Hunter was unbelievably thankful that she went out like a light within minutes of take-off. After Mark had ensured that she was properly strapped-in, and had bundled her up securely in her favorite _Beauty and the Beast_ blanket, it had really only been a matter of time before she drifted off into her dreamland. Madison was also asleep, nestled securely in her carrier. This left Mark and Hunter to themselves. An awkward silence stretched between the two, and neither was quite sure how to break it.

Mark wanted to confide in Hunter about his conversation with Stephanie McMahon the night before, but knew that the decision would be unwise. Hunter was unlikely to understand (or, rather, it was unlikely that he would _want_ to understand) the reasons for the conversation, and Mark didn't want to put the wrong idea into his husband's head. And Hunter wanted to confide in Mark about his concerns regarding Mark's potential loss, but didn't wish to seem like he was doubting his husband's capability or questioning his desire to keep The Streak alive.

"Randy called me last night," Hunter found himself saying, if only because he _needed_ something to say to break the awful tension in the air. "He said that they'll need to be bringing Dexter on the road with them for a little while. I told him that he could stay backstage with the others."

Mark, grateful for any form of distraction to delay the inevitable conversation, asked, "How is Dexter doing, anyhow?"

Hunter shrugged. "I don't know. Randy didn't exactly say. It was a short conversation." He'd called while he and John were on the plane to Missouri to retrieve their son. "But if he's still in failing health, it'll do them both good to have him nearby."

Mark stared down at Madison, who was slowly stirring as the pressure built in her ears. "You made the right decision." Reaching into their carry-on, he started to search for her ornate, flower-patterned baby binky. "His match at WrestleMania has incredible magnitude. He can't be distracted."

"Speaking of WrestleMania..." Hunter trailed off, trying to find the words to vocalize his decision.

"What about WrestleMania?" Mark asked - his tone was a little too sharp, his question a little too sudden.

Hunter raised an eyebrow. Mark cursed silently under his breath, realizing that he'd been caught. The blond leaned in a little closer, eyes locking with Mark's tired ones. "Is there something that you want to tell me, Mark?"

Instead of answering, Mark unlatched the screaming baby and pulled her up onto his lap, careful to support her neck and head. He pushed the binky past her wet, pink lips, effectively hushing her as she swallowed and released the pressure building in her ears. Lily stirred slightly, but didn't awaken. Mark shifted the baby in his arms again, watching as she slowly stretched out her little body. She was so innocent... so pure... his eyes shifted over to Lily, and he wondered if, one day, this business... this _life_... would corrupt her just as it had corrupted Lily. In that moment, he silently swore to _never_ allow such a thing to occur.

"Mark, can I ask you something?" Hunter inquired warily. He didn't bother trying to meet Mark's eyes.

"You already know the answer to that." Anything. Mark had once told him that he could ask him _anything_.

Hunter gripped the armrest until his knuckles turned white from the effort, squeezing his eyes closed as he did so. For some reason, the sensation made him feel _grounded_, made it so much easier to ask, "Are we going to survive WrestleMania?"

The question, quite obviously, had two levels. The first, a physical level. Would their bodies make it out of their respective matches intact? The second, an emotional level. Would their relationship survive? Mark frowned, before turning the question around, "Have you signed on to your match at WrestleMania?"

"Steph pressured me into signing the contract. I'm the first match, one-on-one with Daniel Bryan." A pause, then, "And don't try to change the subject."

"I don't see why it is that we wouldn't survive. You always had a flair for the melodramatic. Everything will be fine, you'll see." Mark said.

Hunter stared into Mark's eyes, as if trying to read the emotions that lurked there and morph them into an explanation. Finally, he said, "There is something that you aren't telling me, and it's really starting to worry me. Please..."

Mark stared into Hunter's eyes for a moment, then, "Madison is hungry. Where is her bottle and formula?"

They simply stared at each other for several moments, before Hunter relented and retrieved the necessary items to make Madison's bottle. He could feel their relationship slowly crumbling beneath his feet, and he hadn't the slightest about how to stop the downward tumble. He didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want to feel Mark slowly slip from his grasp, feel him slowly withdraw, feel him pull away from everything they'd worked so hard to build. Before, it had seemed like such a ludicrous notion. But now, it seemed all-too-real.

A breath, and then, "WrestleMania XXX really _will_ be the end of everything."

* * *

Daniel and CM Punk were in the airport when Hunter, Mark, and the girls got off of the plane. They were retrieving their luggage when Hunter caught up to Daniel, pulling him aside to tell him the specifics of the match that he would be contesting on Monday Night RAW. Phil got pulled aside to sign a couple of autographs, and when Daniel finished (it had really been more of a one-sided conversation), he grabbed Phil by the hand and tried to drag him out. But it was too late. Hunter had caught sight of Phil and it all just went downhill from there...

Hunter was well-aware of the fact that Phil was still traveling with Daniel Bryan, even if Phil and the business weren't exactly on the best of terms. Daniel didn't feel right leaving Phil home alone in the middle of such a difficult pregnancy, and even if the two of them didn't get along, Hunter could understand because his latest pregnancy hadn't exactly been a walk in the park either. But that didn't mean that the two were on amiable terms when they saw each other. From the look of hatred boiling between them, Daniel half expected things to melt down into a screaming match. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky.

"Ah, Phil. I see pregnancy has just about kicked your ass." Hunter bit out, anger and angst present in his eyes. "Tell me, have you always had a double chin?" Phil's eye twitched, one hand resting on his baby bump protectively.

"Oh, Hunter. Is that you? I almost didn't recognize you - what, did you put on seventy-five, eighty pounds with this latest pregnancy?" Phil had obviously hit a nerve, as Hunter visibly flinched. He shifted awkwardly in his tight, silken shirt.

"Funny, Mr. Brooks. Very funny." But neither of them were laughing.

"Oh, I see that we've reverted to a last name basis, hmm? Fine by me, Mr. Hearst-Calloway." He said.

Hunter sighed. "Believe it or not, I did not come here to discuss your impressive girth. Though, _honestly_, that shirt wouldn't even have fit six months ago." Daniel watched as Phil shifted slightly, a hint of self-consciousness showing through. "I came to offer you two complimentary tickets to WrestleMania."

Phil's eyebrows knit together. "I would only need one. It's not like I plan on bringing anyone."

"Oh, they're both for you. See, I wasn't sure that you'd be able to fit on one seat, considering how much weight you've put on and all... I thought it was rather considerate, don't you?" Hunter's twisted smirk said otherwise.

Mark shook his head, knowing better than to get involved. Daniel Bryan took a step back, watching as Phil's eye twitched. And then, "You really are an obnoxious bastard, you know that? A selfish, cold-hearted, pig-headed _bastard_."

Hunter really should've seen the slap coming. He knew, realistically speaking, that there was only so far that he could push Phil before he eventually retaliated. It could've been worse, looking back on it - Hunter was lucky that it _wasn't_ worse. The resounding _slap_ echoed through the airport and, following closely behind, Lily let out a loud whimper and buried her face in Mark's pant leg. And then, turning on his heel, he stormed off. Daniel stared at the mess left in his fiancé's wake for only a moment, before racing after him. One thing was for certain - he definitely _wasn't_ getting laid tonight...


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fanfic, etc.

* * *

"That was beautiful back there. Really, it was absolutely marvelous." Mark rolled his eyes as they made to exit the airport, several unwelcome eyes following them along the way. As it turned out, Hunter's little spat with Phil had attracted quite the audience.

For several moments, Hunter silently massaged his swelling cheek, brooding. Finally, he produced, "If that little bastard thought that a 3-on-1 handicap gauntlet was me going easy on him..." he shook his head, manic ideas rapidly coming in and out of his brain, "he won't even know what hit him."

"Don't you think that it would be smart to... oh, I don't know... lay off of them for a little while? You already had one walk out on you, do you really want to lose both of them? Like them or not, they're assets to the company. Assets that you can't afford to just throw away." Mark said.

Hunter scowled. It pulled the swollen flesh of his cheek down in an incredibly unfavorable manner. "You certainly know how to be a buzz-kill, don't you? Torturing the little hairy troll is the only fun I have at that stupid desk job -,"

"If you think that that desk job is so 'stupid', why were you so hesitant to agree to the match with Bryan at WrestleMania? It would be like killing two birds with one stone. Get rid of your troll infestation, and get rid of the 'stupid' desk job." Mark said in a matter-of-fact tone. He always made things sound so easy.

Hunter shifted uncomfortably in his shirt. It was stuffy in the airport and the shirt had now become unbearably tight. "I'd explain it, but you wouldn't understand."

Hunter took Lily by the hand and marched her out of the airport, where their private rental was waiting. Mark lagged a little ways behind, slowed down by the cumbersome burden of the baby, the diaper bag, and Lily's various accessories. It seemed that Hunter was above 'sharing the burden', and was more than happy to make Mark into his own personal bellboy. Mark rolled his eyes. The doctors had said that the hormones from the pregnancy could remain unbalanced for several weeks post-pregnancy as his body returned to normal, but if he remembered correctly, things hadn't been _this_ difficult after Lily...

By the time Mark made it to the car, Hunter had already set up the baby car seat for Madison and had buckled Lily into her own. Mark dropped the various accessories by the car rather unceremoniously, before gingerly tucking the baby into her car seat and buckling her in. When he had finished and the bags were still there, Mark realized that Hunter had walked around the car - and, clearly, had _seen_ the bags - and merely ignored them. He shook his head. Things _definitely_ had not been this rough after Lily. Tossing the bags into the trunk, he slid into the car beside Hunter and closed the door.

"What do you think of a verbal dressing-down from the Authority on RAW, followed by a beat-down by yours truly?" Hunter was back on their earlier subject. Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep himself in check.

"I think that you've gone and lost your damn mind." Mark said firmly. "Phil will skin you alive... and I'll sit back and watch it happen."

Hunter frowned. "Phil wouldn't risk the future of his fiancé's career just to get even on a vendetta that he may or may not have against me."

Mark replayed the scene from earlier in his head. The sharp _slap_ as Phil's open palm made contact with Hunter's face could still be heard loud and clear. "May or may not? You'd have to be _blind_ to not see that he wants your head on a pike! And I'd never be too sure if he would or would not actually go through with it."

"Phil and I used to have a rather pleasant working relationship." Hunter said - the last words were swallowed by Mark's obnoxious laughter.

"Are you kidding me?" The look on Hunter's face said that he had not, in fact, been joking. That sobered Mark up a little bit. "Phil's hated your guts from the beginning. Just because he didn't castrate you when you passed in the halls doesn't mean your working relationship was 'pleasant'."

"And how would you know this? Hmm?" Hunter raised one eyebrow, face open and interested. Mark frowned.

"We're not going there, Hunter. That's not what this conversation is about." He said.

"Oh, really? Because, and correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't _you_ the one who brought him into this?" Hunter fumed. "Just because you used to have a relationship with him, and want to have one again, doesn't put you in the position to make insinuations about _my_ relationship with him!"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Are you really that insecure?" The biting quip cut deeper that Hunter had thought that it would. "We dated for six and a half months, during which you and I could barely stand to look at one another. It's _over_. He's with Daniel, and I'm married to you. _Those_ are the facts. _That's_ what matters."

Hunter stared into his eyes for a moment, before attempting to call his bluff. "You're lying to me."

_That_ was the straw that broke the camel's back. _"Oh, for the love of _-," he got the attention of the driver and ordered him to pull over.

Without another word to his husband, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, climbing out of the car. Hunter opened his mouth to ask him what in the hell he thought that he was doing, but one look from the Deadman silenced all questions of the sort. The door slammed closed and the car started moving again, gaining speed until Mark was nothing but a blur in the distance. It would seem as if he was ready and willing to walk to the hotel, rather than spend another twenty minutes in the car listening to Hunter bitch about the past and his current rivalry with Daniel Bryan. Mark was just _done_.

Hunter leaned backward, allowing his eyes to fall closed. Why did everything have to be so fucking difficult where Mark was concerned? He missed the days when life was easy, before he had to worry about keeping everything in check - like an acrobat attempting to keep all of the plates spinning simultaneously, he knew that it was inevitable that one would eventually come crashing down. And then, like dominoes, one after another, they would fold in. In the wake of it all would be Hunter, sticks in his hands, staring at the broken shards and wondering how something so beautiful could also be so horrifying.

First to fold would be his marriage. He could feel himself pulling away from Mark, distancing himself as a security measure so that, when the actual break came, it wouldn't hurt as badly. He was trying to push Mark away in any way that he could... Mark was only just now starting to be able to take a hint. Then, would be his children. Lily could only take so much discord and chaos in her life. It wouldn't be fair to force her to endure that permanently as the Authority took more and more control over the WWE. Then, his friends. Then, his job. Like dominoes, he'd just sit back and watch them all... fall... down...

Lily leaned forward a little - as much as her car seat would allow - and looked at Hunter with quizzical eyes. "Where Daddy going, Mommy?"

Hunter looked out the window, only to realize that too much time had elapsed and Mark was no longer visible. He shrugged, "I don't know, sweetie. I don't know."

* * *

As it turned out, that was not entirely a lie. Hunter did not see Mark again until RAW - where he found out that the Deadman had booked a room in the hotel across the street. While the comment about Mark still harboring some form of feelings for Phil had been little more than unfounded speculation, the secrecy of this hotel room made him doubtful and wary. His relationship with Mark was solid, now that they had worked out their differences - or, at least, that was what he wanted to believe. But just like when they were together in the Attitude Era, Hunter could tell that something was... off.

When he finally caught up to the Deadman, he was talking to Daniel Bryan outside of the younger star's locker room. They seemed to be on fairly decent terms, but Hunter could tell that the conversation was heated and slightly awkward. He leaned in closer, catching, "...apologize for what he said to Phil."

Daniel shrugged, scratching at his beard. "Thank you. I really appreciate you being man enough to come and apologize, because those comments were unfounded and uncalled for... and just enough to get me a one-way ticket to the floor for the next three days." Daniel laughed ruefully. "Phil's really pissed off."

"Can't say that I blame him. Phil was always one hell of a wrestler, and he took great pride in his looks. What Hunter did was shameful." Hunter's face became hot.

"You could say that again." Daniel huffed, aggravated. "I think that what Phil was really pissed off about, though, was that I didn't do anything about it. But what should I have done? Tackle him in front of his kids? He'd have me arrested."

Mark shrugged. "All I can say is that it all comes out in the wash. Karma is a bitch, and everyone has to pay for their crimes some time."

Daniel cocked his head to the side. "You're amazingly moderate, considering your husband's radical approach to anything and everything."

Once again, Mark shrugged. "Someone has to be the voice of reason in the household."

They talked like that for several more minutes, and Hunter could feel bile rising in his throat. Why was it that Mark could talk so easily to an enemy of the Authority, but he couldn't talk about _anything _with his husband? And then Mark was laughing. _Laughing_. Hunter wanted to storm in there and forcibly tear them apart, to talk some sense into his husband - but he refrained from doing so, merely because he was afraid that Mark would then laugh at _him_. He didn't know if he could bear having that beautiful laughter turned _at_ him. Not when the weight of the world seemed to be attempting to crush him at once.

After awhile, they broke apart with a casual slap on the shoulder and the usual wish for 'good luck' in whatever chaos that particular night brought them. Hunter quickly moved away, doing his best to look casual as Mark went by. And that is exactly what happened. Mark went past without a word to Hunter, which both startled and unsettled the dirty blond. Mark was a man of few words, yes, but to walk by without even so much as a casual nod or a small, knowing smile was practically unheard of. A knot formed in Hunter's gut and, instinctively, he reached out for Mark. Mark tensed and turned to look at him with cold, calculating eyes.

"Mark, I -," Hunter's words were cut off as Mark brutally wrenched his wrist out of Hunter's hand.

"Don't touch me." And, turning around, he started off for his contract signing with Brock Lesnar.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Lily and Madison.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Past Mpreg, Storyline Fanfic, etc.

* * *

It seemed that things took a drastic turn from bad to worse after the first of many Brock Lesnar-Undertaker encounters...

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Brock was absolutely infuriated, blood boiling in his veins. Blood slowly slithered down his mutilated palm. "Is that your idea of entertainment, you psycho son-of-a-bitch?" His screaming was attracting the attention of the other superstars, but no-one dared to intervene.

"Brock," Hunter swallowed hard. His face remained a steely mask, but in his eyes, his fear was obvious. "Brock, this isn't the way to vent your frustration. In fact, you shouldn't have any _frustration_ at all. You got your match at WrestleMania. Now, get out of my face before I change my mind about giving it to you so graciously!"

A twisted, demented smirk slowly materialized onto Brock's face. "You think that you can get away with talking to me like that?"

Hunter fought to control an involuntary shiver, but ended up losing the battle in the end. "I think that I can talk to you any way that I want, because, at the end of the day, _I'm still your boss."_ That fact seemed to be absolutely meaningless to Brock, who only seemed to be bemused by the fact.

"You may be my _boss_," he spat out the word, disgusted, "but I'm more of an authoritarian than you could _ever_ be." That smirk returned, "And definitely more of a man."

Here, Hunter found that the Beast Incarnate was staring at his paunch, the leftover baby fat from his pregnancy. The birthplace of all of his insecurities, all of his WrestleMania doubts, _everything_... Brock seemingly sought to add one more thing to that list. Hunter's hands balled into fists at his sides and he was barely able to refrain from putting his fist through the side of Brock's face - in the end, it would only land him in the same boat as Glen Jacobs, who had put his hands on one too many employees during his time as the Director of Operations. He didn't need to bring any more legal problems to the WWE.

As it turned out, Hunter didn't need to worry about slapping Brock Lesnar. Brock's hand flew up in a blur and Hunter couldn't help but wince, preparing for an impact that would never come. Brock patted his cheek condescendingly, smiling darkly as Hunter's eyes widened and darkened with hatred. _That _is when the slap came. It was so strong that Hunter's head was sent reeling and he stumbled back, hitting the wall with a dull _thud_. Slowly, his hand rose to his smarting cheek, the tanned skin already turning a vibrant red, and then, slowly morphing into a disturbing bluish-purple.

Brock tapped his cheek again, relishing in the way that Hunter winced with each painful pat. "That hurt, didn't it?" Hunter had to resist the urge to spit on him. "If you don't tell your precious little husband to lay-off and lay-down like a good little dog..." he laughed, "I'll make _that_ look like _child's__ play_."

Hunter looked ready to tear the Beast Incarnate a new one, but willed himself to remain firmly rooted to the wall. "Is your little threat supposed to scare me?"

"No... No, no, no... Who am I kidding? What was I thinking, thinking a little threat like that would intimidate the mighty King of Kings?" The sudden change in Brock's demeanor was positively terrifying. "No, it would have to be something much more personal, something much more," once again, the paunch, "important..."

Hunter's eyes widened. "You wouldn't _dare_..."

A shove to his left shoulder sent him back into the wall again. "You call off your husband and keep him at bay 'till WrestleMania, and your precious girls will be _fine_."

"Threatening my children is grounds for immediate termination without a severance package, Lesnar. You watch your mouth or your ass will be on the unemployment line, and trust me - I'll make it so you'll be _damn lucky_ if you end up begging for change on the street!" Hunter growled ferociously.

Brock just laughed. "You won't fire me, and both of us know it all-too-well." Laying a hand on Hunter's shoulder, he said, "You have one week to decide."

Hunter was about to make a retort, but Brock chose that moment to take his leave. It was probably a good thing that Brock chose that moment to take his leave, because Hunter was about to lose his cool. Instead, he spun on his heel and slammed his fist into the wall, over and over, until his knuckles split and blood poured over his hand, staining the wall... and then he pulled back, staring at the damage that he had just caused. His eyes then flickered from the bloody hand to his paunch, memories of Brock's threat all-too-fresh in his mind. If only the wall had actually been Brock's face...

* * *

"You really need to take better care of yourself, Hunt. Your kids don't need to see you this way." Steph said as she carefully bandaged up his hand.

"Yeah, well, at this point, I'm lucky that I still have my kids at all..." Hunter trailed off, conflicting emotions warring in his eyes.

Steph was his friend, and he trusted her implicitly. Even if they didn't necessarily always see eye-to-eye, and sometimes she backed him into corners in order to make decisions that _she_ thought would be 'best for business' (whoever had the bright idea to make her VP of Creative didn't know the monster that they were breeding), they got along well and he could talk to her in a way that he couldn't with Mark. Steph was much more open with her emotions, and she seemed to understand and respect his at the same time. Hunter wasn't sure that he could say that about Mark any longer.

"You're in a tricky situation." Steph continued. "I can honestly say that, had he put his hands on _me_ and threatened _my_ kids, his ass would be put through the ringer. But with you," she shook her head, cleaning the blood off her hands, "You are just up the creek without a paddle."

Hunter stared at his wrapped-up hand, considering for a moment, "Mark left me. Even if I... Even if I wanted to tell him to stop... Whatever we had once... It's over."

"He asked you for a divorce?" Steph looked as if _she_ had been the one that had been struck across the face.

Hunter did his best to look anywhere but at her face. He couldn't meet her eyes. "Not in so many words... we've been having problems lately... but its not like this is the first time. Things always get tense around WrestleMania season because of the Streak and whatnot. I just..." he trailed off, sounding pained.

"You just _what_?" Steph pushed, trying to help him out as best she could.

Hunter sighed. "We're just separated now. Nothing's official... yet." He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand. "Every WrestleMania, I get this feeling that 'this is the end', you know? The end of _everything_. With one colossal blow, the Streak will go down... and so will our marriage."

She shook her head, gently applying a bag of ice to his swollen, discolored cheek. "Mark loves you. That would never happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

That would have been the opportune moment for her to come clean about her conversation with Mark concerning the fate of the Streak at WrestleMania. She knew that, in doing so, she could straighten out a lot of the drama and conflicting emotions that were running rampant within Hunter. It would put him in a much better position with Mark, Brock, and the company as a whole. All she had to do was open her mouth and tell him that Mark actually _wanted_ to lose. But _something_ was holding her back - it was like there was an invisible hand clamped over her mouth, preventing those words from coming out.

Instead, she shrugged. Hunter took hold of the ice pack and she rose to her feet, smoothing out the wrinkles in her finely tailored dress pants. "Call it a woman's intuition, if you will. I've got a good feeling about it. Don't you trust me?"

Hunter offered her a sad, almost reluctant smile. "How could you ever doubt that I trust you? I trust you more than anyone else in the world."

Steph cocked an eyebrow. "Even your husband?"

That smile vanished completely. In its place, haunted shadows took hold of Hunter's face. "Sometimes."

"Well, you know that I love you, and that you're always welcome here." Steph motioned around to her spacious, executive hotel room. "Make yourself at home. There're extra bottles and formula in the en-suite kitchen if Madison gets hungry tonight."

"Thanks," Hunter nodded, making a mental note to remember that - Madison usually got hungry sometime around one o' clock in the morning - and then quickly added, "for everything."

"Not a problem." Steph pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, before squeezing his hand tightly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He called after her.

Neither noticed the small child standing just beyond the doorway to the guest suite, who had come looking for Hunter after a nightmare had woken her from her dreamland. Little ears had heard much too much, and big, fat tears were rolling down her chubby little cheeks. Was Mommy leaving Daddy? And was he going to be with the mean, shrill-voiced lady who headed Mommy's company? And why had they kissed? Kisses were just for family, as far as she knew - and that lady _wasn't_ family. Lily sniffled, before running back to the place where she and her little sister were staying. What was going on?


End file.
